


Lord Nelson at Your Service

by Sway



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sway/pseuds/Sway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first time Arthur wears the coat, Eames calls him Lord Nelson and laughs in his face. The second time Arthur wears the coat, Eames doesn't laugh so much. In fact, he lets out a little groan as he hardens instantly.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lord Nelson at Your Service

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Nolan made them up, I just play with them. A few days ago [](http://seraphinhunter.livejournal.com/profile)[**seraphinhunter**](http://seraphinhunter.livejournal.com/) posted [this picture](http://i54.tinypic.com/i3sb4y.jpg) on her LJ, saying if Arthur would wear it, Eames would make of him. Upon discussing this, this idea was born. So this is for her, with the hope to brighten her day a bit. And a shout-out goes also to [](http://zetaori.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://zetaori.livejournal.com/)**zetaori** whose fics/posts are always such a lovely distraction and who volunteered to point out my mistakes ♥ Any typos or other insanity is still my fault.

The first time Arthur wears the coat, Eames calls him Lord Nelson and laughs in his face. In fact, he laughs so hard that tears are rolling down his cheeks.

The second time Arthur wears the coat, Eames doesn't laugh so much. In fact, he lets out a little groan as he hardens instantly.

Arthur isn't wearing anything underneath. It's just him and the coat and black knee-high boots. To any other man, he'd probably look stupid (he does feel a bit ridiculous), but he knows Eames loves it.

"Your are so going to regret this, darlin'," Eames drawls, trying to sound menacing but his voice is too strained to make it sound convincing.

"Something tells me I won't." Arthur's eyebrow is quirked in triumph and he's filled with glee up to his hairline.

Eames is onto him in an instant, kissing, groping, stumbling through the room towards the bed. The rows of golden buttons along the cuffs clink like Christmas ornaments as Arthur tries to hold on.

The Forger's fingers are fumbling with the row of equally shiny buttons, but Arthur's hand closes on his wrist. He pushes him away, only unbuttoning the last two.

"This is all you get." They both look down to see Arthur's cock peeking out between the fabric, precum glistening at the tip.

Eames grabs him by the lapels and yanks him forward, bruising his lips with a kiss. His tongue and hands seem to be everywhere at once. His fingers crawl over the soft fabric and it feels delicious against Arthur's skin.

"On your back," Eames growls as he pulls back. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath hot against Arthur's skin. He likes when Eames uses that voice on him. "Now."

Arthur feels his lips curling into a smug smile. He can't help it. While he's the one dropping on the mattress now, arms stretched out over his head, legs apart, he's still the one in control. He has Eames exactly where he wants him, at his mercy.

His back arches off the bed as hot lips wrap around his cock. He doesn't even bother not to moan, it would be a futile attempt to say the least. A little jolt ripples through his body as the tip of his cock hits the back of Eames' throat. He hears the other man gag a little bit and on their own accord, his hips buck up to thrust all the way into his mouth again.

As Eames pulls away from him, his smirk colors his voice. "You bastard." To keep him steady, he hooks Arthur's legs over his shoulder before diving down on his cock again.

Arthur digs the heels of his boots into the other man's back as Eames sucks and licks and nibbles on him. He sucks in his cheeks when pulls back, and he hums on his way down.

"If you keep this up, this will be over in about three minutes."

"And that'd be a shame, wouldn't it?"

Eames grins at him before he tilts up his hips, licking his way down his shaft. Gently, he sucks his balls into his mouth, his tongue tracing the seam down to the perineum before gently probing at his puckered hole.

Arthur claws his fingers into the sheet, shifting his position to press further into the ministration. He feels Eames' tongue circling his hole, every now and then dipping inside, slicking him up, making him ready.

"Hey." Eames' hand closes on the lapel of the coat, pulling him halfway up. "Watch me."

Arthur supports his weight on his elbows. He licks his lips as he watches Eames stick two fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva. He's a tease and he'll punish him for toying with him.

Without further warning, Eames pushes two fingers into him. Not one, to let him adjust to being stretched. No, two and all the way to the hilt.

His head falls back and he lets out a litany of expletives, for a brief second cursing the coat and all the kinky ideas that have come with it.

At the third finger, he has to look at Eames again. The Forger has his tongue tucked between his lips, apparently concentrating on the task at hand. It's a glorious sight, looking at him along the line of golden buttons.

"Fuck me," he breathes, riding Eames' fingers. He all but yelps as one fingertip presses against his prostate. "You need to fuck me now."

A satisfied grin spreads on Eames' face as he rises to his feet. "Your wish is my command... sir." He is about to shed clothes when Arthur puts a booted foot against his chest.

"No, keep the clothes on. Just unzip your pants."

Eames leers at him, a tongue pressed obscenely into his cheek. He opens his fly and frees his hard cock from his slacks. Then he spits into his palm, using saliva and precum as makeshift lubricant.

Eagerly, he gets into position, hooks Arthur's legs over his forearms to spread him open and lines up his cock with his opening.

"You ready?" he asks, mostly out of courtesy.

As an answer, Arthur pushes back against the tip of his cock, letting the first few millimeters slip in with ease.

In one smooth motion, Eames pushes into him. They both gasp at the sensation and they pause to adjust to each other.

Then Eames leans forward. His weight makes Arthur pull his legs higher up to his body until he's spread around his cock. It's not the most comfortable position, but he's too horny to care. He wants Eames to take him like his: fully clothed, hard and fast.

He looks at Eames, searching eyes, finding the same desire there.

The Forger supports his weight on his arms on either side of Arthur's body and starts to set a slow pace at first. After a few thrusts, he picks up speed until his hips are jerking forward in quick, hard thrusts.

Soon enough, they are both striving for release.

"Get yourself off, Arthur," Eames commands. Sweat is beading on his forehead and the front of his shirt is already soaked, clinging to his chest. "Soil that pretty coat of yours."

Arthur's hand closes around his cock and he begins to stroke himself in frantic little jerks. He wants to come, needs to come. It can't be fast enough and he knows it won't take much longer.

Eames pumps into him and it almost hurts but he hits all the right spots so Arthur forgives him that the zipper of his pants is scratching his balls with every thrust.

Arching his back, eyes squeezed shut tightly, Arthur comes in his hand and all over the expensive woolen coat. He spills himself over the shiny golden buttons and deep down he knows that the cuffs will be a bitch to clean. But he doesn't give a damn because he feels just too good right now.

His ass clenches around Eames' cock, squeezing him, making his hips jerk against his, making him bury his cock deep inside him as he gets pulled over the edge.

Arthur reaches for the collar of Eames' shirt, then drags him down to kiss him. They ride their orgasms out against each other, dwelling in the afterglow.

Groaning and with creaking bones, Eames pulls out of him, then plops down on the mattress next to him. He runs a hand through his sweat-mussed hair, smoothing it from his face.

His eyes are sparkling mischievously when he turns to Arthur. He reaches out, fingers dipping into the trickle of cum on his stomach where it's slowly seeping into the fabric.

"That's it," he grins. "We're keeping the coat."

 

 


End file.
